preston's cousins

a couple of nights ago i decide to meander around my neighborhood to try and get my bearings. just dusk, the houses are ever-so-slightly shrouded in a thin haze. as i walk down the block and feel the beginning of raindrops, i notice a movement out of the corner of my eye.

my hearing may be waning, but my eyes are eagle-sharp. i take a couple of steps and realize what it is. a frog! a beautiful frog: olive color, mottled with asparagus spots, this frog is healthy. after watching it hop away i proceed on my self-guided tour, my interest piqued, my eyesight honed.

i don't have to wait long. after three steps the street is teeming with activity. frogs, of every size, ranging all the way from my pinky nail (as most of you know, i bite my nails with ferocity. i'm talking teensy tiny frogs here,) to fuji apples. hopping all over the place. i wonder if someone has just forgotten to tell me about the festivities. i can't remember the last time i've seen this many happy frogs in one place.

so, as i am often wont to do in situations like this, i inch along, hobbling over with my eyes peeled, eager for a closer look. so impressive - the sheen of their supple skin. their perfectly adapted legs - ready to conquer land and water alike. their endearingly bulgy eyes (reminding me of both ruby and my dad, two characters whom i love more than just about anyone.) i crouch even further to the street, ready to inspect one frog with all the intensity i can muster.

my examination is interrupted even before it can begin when the nearby-restaurant owner - on whom i have a mild crush - appears out of nowhere beside me and asks what i'm doing "flat on the road."

the frogs, i tell him, i love looking at these frogs. i can't believe how many there are! he sends me a confused look so i point to the one i have just bent down to appreciate.

but. it's not actually a frog. no, what i took to be a frog is simply a rock. grayish green with a slightly dappled appearance, this rock is certainly pretty but it definitely doesn't hop and is definitely not a frog. i stand up straight, brushing off my knees, feeling a blush spread across my face. i point to the other frogs that are actually frogs to prove my point.

and, luckily for me, there are plenty still around.